


best listened to in a camaro at top speed in the dark

by diamondrough



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Binge Drinking, Dream Sex, Fluff, Getting Together, Harringrove Week of Love 2021, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mixtape, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, gift-giving, romantic steve, so much yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondrough/pseuds/diamondrough
Summary: Steve won’t breathe a word of this to Billy, will keep it cool and casual, but he started working on the mixtape in November. Not that it’ll seem cool or casual at all once Billy actually listens to it.(A mixtape playlist and associated vignettes, set in and around December 1984.)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	best listened to in a camaro at top speed in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [take a chance with me, it will be alright](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634828) by [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker). 



> So, last month I read LazyBaker's falling for you in hawkins, indi-fuckin-ana series, and obviously loved it. 
> 
> Then I started wondering what else would be on the mixtape that Steve makes for Billy. I love music and curating a good playlist and even occasionally DJed parties in the Before Times. So I made a playlist.
> 
> But then I kept getting these ideas about how Steve would choose the songs. So I started writing, and a bunch of fic happened too. 
> 
> Whatever this is, it brought me joy to make, and I hope you like it. (Note that the playlist was initially inspired by the falling for you trilogy, but the fic is all my own doing and is not meant to be an offshoot or compliant with that universe, beyond the overall slow burn/Gay Yearning vibes.)
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://spoti.fi/3rU8eLE

-

Steve won’t breathe a word of this to Billy, will keep it cool and casual, but he started working on the mixtape in November. Not that it’ll seem cool or casual at all once Billy actually listens to it, but Steve won’t actively _try_ to scare him off even more.

This isn’t Steve’s first rodeo. He’s given plenty of girls flowers, chocolate, even a couple of times a sweet little charm bracelet or something from the mall in Indianapolis. But when he really wants to lay it on thick, pull out all the stops, he makes a mixtape. Girls swoon for that shit. There’s nothing more romantic than someone spending hours curating the perfect songs, and then packaging it up all pretty, just for you. 

He didn’t really spend hours on them, though, except when he made one for Nancy, and even that one only took about a week and a half of combing through his cassettes and getting it right. 

This time, he’s second-guessing himself the whole way through. 

**side 1: yearning**

* * *

_**track 1 - bette davis eyes (kim carnes)  
**  
_ _And she'll tease you_  
_She'll unease you_  
_All the better just to please you_  
_She's precocious and she knows just_  
_What it takes to make a pro blush_

Steve Harrington doesn’t really have crushes. He’s a guy who’s used to getting what he wants, without pining and waiting around for it. He’s used to _knowing_ exactly who he wants, and how he wants them. But things are changing faster than he can make sense of, and he finds himself sitting on his bedroom floor in the dim light surrounded by boxes and boxes of cassettes, reading the liner notes of _Mistaken Identity_ and wondering if it’s weird to put songs about girls on a tape for another guy.

But the thing is, Steve forgot about this one song he loved the summer between 9th and 10th grades, and then all of a sudden the other day it was sunny and the golden hour light hit Billy in this way that reminded him of Kim’s husky voice saying _Harlow gold_. It’s so cheesy. Billy would make so much fun of him if he knew - _Harrington, do my eyes make you wanna write a poem?_ \- but Steve pops the tape into one of the decks. Billy makes him cheesy as fuck. This is his fault.

**_-_ **

**_track 2 - (i just) died in your arms (cutting crew)_ **  
  
_I just died in your arms tonight_  
_I keep lookin' for somethin' I can't get_  
_Broken hearts lie all around me_  
_And I don't see an easy way to get out of this_

-

**_track 3 - ring me up (the divinyls)_  
**  
_Come on ring me up_  
_I am sitting here all alone_  
_Waiting by my telephone_

_**track 4 - don’t lose my number (phil collins)  
**  
_ _"I'm never coming back"  
_ _They heard him cry  
_ _And I believe him  
_ _Billy, Billy don't you lose my number  
_ _Because you're not anywhere  
_ _That I can find you_

It's not weird to give a dude your number. Steve just hasn't had to in years, because all his friends were the same from kindergarten and he knew Tommy's number better than his own sometimes. But it's a normal thing to do, just to work out who's giving a ride to which of the kids in advance instead of bickering over it the day of. It's not a _thing_. Steve's no good at acting but that doesn't matter because it's objectively not a big deal, at all. 

Billy just flat-out refuses to give Steve his for no reason Steve can discern, beyond Billy cutting a look at him across the aisle in study hall and saying "You can't fuckin' call me at _home_ , Harrington." It clarifies absolutely nothing, as usual.

But then Billy hands Steve his pen and reaches across the narrow gap between their desks, lays his hand palm up on Steve's shitty notes, and wiggles his fingers. "Gimme."

Steve takes the pen. "You don't have a single sheet of paper?" he asks, disbelieving.

"This way I won't lose it," Billy says with a grin.

Steve takes his hand and slowly writes his number, smearing some ink across Billy's palm when his hand shakes on the 4. He's holding Billy's warm hand in his, keeping his fingers out of the way, and it reminds him of the way a girl would stand too close to him at a party or his locker and take the excuse to hold his hand, peeking up at him while she scribbled her number on his hand. He'd call her up for a date and she wouldn't turn him down. He always knew how it would go. 

Billy's hand is warm in his and there's a little bit of grease around his thumbnail and Steve can smell his fucking obnoxious cologne when he leans over. It's not a big deal, at all. Steve can feel his face getting hot as he finishes writing.

"Thanks," Billy says, moving away, and Steve deliberately doesn't look at his hand. He tucks Billy's pen behind his ear and goes back to staring at the book he's not reading.

-

**_track 5 - spooky (dusty springfield)_ **

_Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you  
_ _If you decide someday to stop this little game that you are playing  
_ _I'm gonna tell you all the things my heart's been a-dyin' to be saying_

 _**track 6 - a case of you (joni mitchell)  
  
** _ _Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine  
_ _You taste so bitter and so sweet  
_ _Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling  
_ _And I would still be on my feet_

When he can’t sleep, Steve watches reruns of whatever movie’s playing on channel ten at midnight, and flips through boxes of tapes. When he gets bored of his own collection, he digs into his mom's shelves, untouched now by anyone but him. December reminds him of when he was a kid, when his mom would get his dad to build her a fire in the den, then put on a record. She’d shoo his dad away and he’d get to sit with her on the big sofa, wine in her hand, smelling her perfume and the slightly sweet scent of her lipstick on the glass. Henderson’s mom calls him Dusty sometimes and the kids just think it’s a dumb nickname, but Steve remembers a woman’s voice. Remembers Dusty, Joni, Billie, Carole, and the crackle of the fire and his mom’s hand in his hair as he dozed next to her in the winter, listening to women sing about things he hadn’t felt yet. 

He isn’t sure how to record vinyl to a cassette tape with his setup, but he’s got three weeks to figure it out. 

**_-_ **

**_track 7 - lorelei (cocteau twins)_ **

_We're covered by the sacred fire  
_ _When you come to me  
_ _You come to me broke_

The fucking weirdest song comes on one of the stations from the next town over when it’s late, late, late and Billy doesn’t want to go home but isn’t saying so, and they’re sharing a joint in the Camaro. Steve’s not sure if the singer is actually saying nonsense or if he’s just baked out of his mind, but Billy looks confused too.

“What the hell is this, man?” Steve giggles. He reaches to turn the dial and find another station, but Billy knocks his hand out of the way. “Leave it,” he says, and closes his eyes. He leans back in his seat and breathes out smoke and nods his head just the tiniest bit to the beat. His earring sits against the curls tucked behind his ear and Steve just looks, because he’s high, and because he kinda thinks Billy’s beautiful.

“This is good, like, foggy night music,” says Billy, his eyes still closed. It’s clear and crisp and dry outside in the dark, and Steve starts laughing.

“Dude. First, there’s no fog. Second, you can’t even _see_ the lack of fog,” he says, and Billy squeezes his eyes shut and says very seriously, “Doesn’t matter, dipshit, this song _sounds_ like a foggy night,” and Steve cracks up.

Billy cracks one eye and glares, puts a finger to his lips. Steve tries to be quiet, leaning over and resting his forehead on Billy’s shoulder as he giggles. Billy doesn’t make him move. 

-

_**track 8 - the promise (when in rome)** _

_I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say_  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be_  
_But if you wait around a while I'll make you fall for me_  
_I promise, I promise you, I will_  
  


Steve learned how to be charming from the day he was born. He's a country club kid, blessed with good looks and social clout and the the kind of money that gets you a BMW for your sweet sixteen. Destined to be King Steve, and more than comfortable there, until shit like watching Nancy empty a revolver into a monster's head happened. Until he got dumped in a bathroom that smelled like tequila vomit while Duran Duran blasted outside. Until there were more monsters, and the average age of his friends dropped to around thirteen, and somehow also Billy happened.

He and Billy circled each other from the day they met, pushing each other's buttons, trying to edge one another off the stupid fucking high school social ladder. He thinks about that metaphor, or simile or whatever, about the frog in boiling water sometimes. It's hard to really see how they got from there to here, where they actually _hang out_ voluntarily. Make each other laugh and shit. He slowly boiled, and now he's totally unrecognizable to his old self because now? Steve's fucking _fascinated_ with Billy Hargrove.

He can't help himself, it feels like. The questions spill out of him, and half the time charming Steve fully puts his foot in his mouth, asking something that goes too far. It's impossible to get anything out of Billy that he doesn't want to say, of course, but more than that the guy's a fucking minefield. Ask the wrong question on the wrong day and he snaps and tells Steve he's an idiot, or cranks the volume on the stereo louder, or just straight up disappears. 

But still, Steve wants to _know_ shit about him. He's not exactly sure why. It's just - Billy's interesting, in a way no one else in Hawkins has ever been. He looks different, acts different, _feels_ different to be around. So Steve rambles all sorts of questions for as long as Billy lets him: he asks what Billy wanted to be when he was a kid (rock star astronaut), what his favourite colour is (red), if he likes sweet or salty (both, his mom used to make chocolate chip cookies with sea salt on them and they were amazing), if anyone else in his family has the same colour eyes he does. Steve gets blown off on the last one, which wasn't really a surprise. 

He knows they won't go over well, but sometimes when they're fucked up and Billy crashes at his place after the party and they're sharing another joint they don't need, Steve asks the ones he's really dying to know. Why did your family leave California? What do you miss about it? What do you wanna do after high school - like, not what you _think_ you'll do but what do you _want_ to do, you know? Billy rolls his eyes and drags heavy on the joint, and tells Steve he asks too many goddamn questions. There's no bite to it, though, and he lets some fragments slip - it's a long story, he misses the sun and the way the air smells near the ocean, and he wants to go surf and drink rum out of coconuts on the beach. 

Steve kinda wants to say _thank you_ when Billy gives him these real answers, but that seems weird, so. He just says, "I make a mean pina colada. Gotta get you a sun lamp or something," and Billy snorts and bumps Steve's shoulder with his and says "I'm not a fuckin' lizard, Harrington," sounding just a little pleased, and that's good. 

Eventually they crash. Billy snores, just a little bit, just enough to be kinda cute in a dumb way but not so loud it's annoying. Steve thinks, as he falls asleep, about more questions.

_Where's your mom now? Why's your dad such a fucking asshole?_

_Will you be okay?_

_Have you ever been in love?_

_Why the fuck do you make me feel like this?_

_**-** _

_**track 9 - the longest time (billy joel)** _

_I have been a fool for lesser things_  
_I want you so bad_  
_I think you ought to know that_  
_I intend to hold you for the longest time_

  
_**track 10 - wild heart (stevie nicks)** _

_Blame it on my wild heart_  
_Long before I knew it_  
_There was a danger_  
_And the danger was to fall in love_

-

**side 2: desire**

* * *

**_track 1- just what I needed (the cars)_ **

_I don't mind you comin' here_  
_And wastin' all my time_  
_'Cause when you're standin' oh so near_  
_I kinda lose my mind_  
_I guess you're just what I needed_

Billy is distracting. This isn't new. He's a showboat on the court and struts down the hallway knowing full well every girl is ogling his tight jeans and drives the loudest car known to humankind. He does it on purpose and hey, it works.

What's new is that now, he seems to have a laser focus on distracting Steve as much as possible. Fucking constantly. 

It's driving Steve insane.

They share one class and study hall, and every single goddamn day this week Billy has poked Steve with his pencil until he gives up and lets Billy ask whatever inane question he has. On Monday he asked to borrow a pen. On Tuesday he asked Steve what page the reading was. On Wednesday Billy asked him what he brought for lunch. Then what he was working on. Then if he was gonna be at practice tonight. On Thursday he had the nerve to poke Steve with his pencil and then ask him to _borrow a pencil,_ because he didn't like the one he was using.

On Friday Steve sat in a different seat, and Billy just stared at him for the first half hour, then got Melissa Stevens to pass him a note. _What did you get for #3 on the calc test?_ it said, and Steve sighed.

In practice, Billy's on him more than ever. Barely lets Steve out of his sight and acts like he's the only person Billy's defending the net from. Keeps getting almost close enough to foul and whispering shit in his ear like _plant your feet, princess_ and _you call that a dribble? my grandmother has better game_ just to fuck with him. The other guys notice but seem to think nothing of it, rolling their eyes at the two of them, and Tommy claps Billy on the back as they file into the locker room.

Even in the parking lot, Billy's started parking next to Steve every day, even when he snags a different spot than usual. He's always there, lounging in a pose against the hood of the Camaro, dragging on a cigarette when Steve gets in his car to go home. The guy is everywhere.

One day, though, he's not.

It's Tuesday. There's no reason for him to skip, no tests or boring presentations he'd want to miss. The weather is shitty so it's not like he'd have anything fun to do. He's missing from practice but no one's heard from him, even Coach. Steve's not, like worried or anything. There are a million reasons he could be gone, though they dwindle as Tuesday turns into Wednesday and Thursday, and still nothing.

Maybe it's weird to bring it up at lunch but by the time he thinks about it, the words are already out of his mouth. "Where do you think Hargrove is?" he asks, and Jonathan and Nancy look at him, Jonathan blankly and Nancy with a hint of curiosity.

"I don't know, wouldn't you? He never leaves you alone," Nancy says.

"He's just being annoying, it's not like we're friends or anything," Steve says, looking down at his tray.

Jonathan shrugs. "We had English together last semester. Sometimes he missed. Never said why. Kinda looked like he got in a fight or something, though."

Nancy's still looking at Steve. He can feel her eyes on him as he drags his fork through his shitty potatoes. 

"Are you worried about him?" she asks, and Steve feels his face go red.

"No," he says quickly, not looking at her. "Of course not. I was just wondering."

"He's always bugging you," she says, and takes a bite of her apple. "Pulling your pigtails."

Steve looks at her then and rolls his eyes. "He is not _pulling my pigtails_ , Nance, we're not first grade girls. He's just an asshole."

She smiles and shrugs, turning her attention back to her apple and the book next to her tray. Steve's not really hungry anymore.

The next period is study hall. Billy's seat is empty, and Steve's head is swirling, Nancy's words stuck in his thoughts. He's nervous for some reason, his stomach unsettled. He _is_ worried, he realizes. He's not sure about what, exactly, but it's something to do with Billy disappearing from school and coming back looking like he was in a fight, and Nancy implying things he's been careful not to think about, and the fact that it's been three days and he _misses_ Billy being annoying. Misses feeling like the centre of his attention, if he's being honest.

On Friday morning, Steve pulls into the lot and Billy is parked right in Steve's favourite spot, peering over his aviators with a smug little grin. There's the ghost of a bruise around his left eye. Steve smiles despite himself and parks next to Billy, waving hello. 

**-**

_**track 2 - brass in pocket (the pretenders)** _

_'Cause I'm gonna make you see_  
_There's nobody else here, no one like me_  
_I'm special, so special_  
_I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me_

_**track 3 - PYT (michael jackson)** _

_I want to love you (PYT)  
_ _Pretty young thing  
_ _You need some loving (TLC)  
_ _Tender love and care_

When Steve gets to the party at Tina's place, it's later than he'd normally be - he'd dawdled, indecisive about what colour shirt, which shoes, if the Farrah Fawcett was really up to snuff tonight - and he's got some catching up to do. So he takes two beers from the cooler on the porch and double fists them in the kitchen where Tina and some junior are practically dry humping against the fridge. He surveys the scene, peers around the corner. Steve's honestly kinda tired of the effort that goes into trying to convince himself he's not looking for Billy every time he walks into a room. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting, and it's Friday night, so. 

He's looking.

He drinks.

Two double rounds later he's feeling the buzz, and abandons his empties to snag another beer on the way out of the kitchen. The lights are bright and he feels warm and chilled out as he pops the cap on one, taking a swig. Everyone looks a little prettier and a little less annoying. He's craving a cigarette, which really means he's craving how it feels to sit next to Billy on the stoop and light his smoke for him. Tina never has any shortage of free booze; her parents are the type who went to Hawkins High and want to still be cool so they supply whatever. But Steve brought a flask of his dad's bourbon, which, if he's being honest, was specifically to pass back and forth with Billy on that stoop.

_Where the fuck is he?_

Whatever. Steve feels kinda pathetic and tips the bottle back.

Someone set up a sound system in the den and there's a messy, jumping dance floor spilling out the doorway, with a cute brunette just in Steve's line of sight who looks him up and down and smiles. They're playing The Cars and Steve kinda just wants to move, get jostled around in a crowd for a while and quit fuckin' wondering _where is he_. Brunette smiles wider when she sees him coming, and his head starts bopping automatically, the bass and synth thrumming in the tiny packed room. He's a shitty dancer but someone passes around tequila shots and what the fuck ever, really. It's Friday night.

He doesn't really want Brunette in the end. He just dances, pressed up against everyone sweating to Duran Duran and Tina Turner and Phil Collins, and watches the windows fog with condensation. He does another shot, then tries for one more, but he's fucked up and this one he spills clumsily on the sweater he obsessed over. 

Of course, that's when Billy finally fucking shows up. He reeks of booze too and drapes himself over Steve's shoulder, yelling in his ear, "Another?" and Steve nods, suddenly way more relaxed, feeling himself smiling stupidly and getting goddamn _butterflies_ that are muffled by the liquor as they both down another shot. Steve's just about to ask where he's been, but then holy shit, one of Steve's favourite songs ever, _ever_ starts playing and he completely loses track of what he was thinking. 

"I fucking love this song!" Steve yells to Billy, pressing in to where Billy's arm is still around his shoulders, and then moves away to sing dramatically, facing Billy dead on. "Tenderoniiiiii, you've got to be," he shouts off key, and Billy cracks up. Billy looks like he's about to tease Steve or ask some dumbass question about who's a tenderoni, but then the chorus hits and Steve is so fucking drunk he feels like he's floating and life is _good_. He does a little spin and points at Billy again, shouts "PYT, pretty young thing! You need some lovin', TLC!" and completely fails to moonwalk, and Billy laughs so hard he cries. 

Later, they sit on the stoop and Steve lights Billy's cigarette and they share some liquor neither of them needs from Steve's flask. Their knees are touching, and it's quieting down inside. Billy tugs at the sleeve of Steve's sweater and says, "Red's a good colour on you." It's cold out, but Steve is warm, bubbling up inside like champagne as they look at each other, and their smoke trails into the night. 

**_-_ **

**_track 4 - lay all your love on me (abba)_ **

_It was like shooting a sitting duck  
_ _A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck  
_ _I still don't know what you've done with me_

**_-_ **

**_track 5 - you really got me (van halen)_ **

_You really got me now_  
_You got me so I don't know what I'm doin'_  
_Yeah, you really got me now_  
_You got me so I can't sleep at night_

-

 **_track 6- little red corvette (prince)  
  
_** _A body like yours  
Oughta be in jail  
'Cause it's on the verge of bein' obscene  
Now, move over, baby  
Gimme the keys  
I'm gonna try to tame your little red love machine_

It's been a few weeks now that Steve hasn't been having as many nightmares. They're still around - some nights he wakes up sweating and tense, expecting his hand to close around a bat, the smell of the tunnels in his nose - but lately they've taken a backseat to other dreams. They're mostly mundane, everyday shit that's barely distinguishable from real life, which messes with his head when he can't remember if he was talking about Back to the Future with Billy yesterday at lunch or if his brain made that up.

Sometimes, though, they're not mundane.

It's hard to tell, but Steve's pretty sure that he's dreaming right now. He can't really remember anything before being here in the backseat of the Camaro, and the way Billy is completely unsurprised that he's there seems funny somehow. Prince is on the radio and it sounds slow, kinda warped. His head is fuzzy, and when he blinks everything shifts. He's on his back now, and the leather of the seat is warm and Billy's body radiates heat where he's on top of Steve, his thighs on either side of Steve's legs. Billy's curls brush his bare chest and his belly as Billy kisses him everywhere, licks his nipple, bites at his hip. His hands are in Billy's hair and he's moaning like he never, ever does. He's usually quiet but everything here is new, and anything is possible, it seems. Billy looks up and Steve shouldn't be able to see the blue of his eyes so clearly in the dark but they're piercing, so bright, and he's smiling.

Steve can't find words, can't speak, but he draws his thumb across Billy's cheekbone and tucks a curl behind his ear. Something painful squeezes in Steve's chest at the way Billy looks at him so open and calm, like there may as well be nothing left in the world outside this car and there's no need to be careful.

"Gonna make you feel good, baby," says Billy, and Steve can barely breathe. Billy undoes his belt and tugs his fly down and gets out Steve's cock, and he doesn't hesitate, he just plants messy kisses all the way up the shaft and then sucks on the head, swirling his tongue wetly around. Steve is going to die, he can't breathe or think and then Billy hollows his cheeks, holding Steve's hips down with one arm and Steve gasps " _oh, oh, oh_ " as Billy groans around his cock, and Steve can feel Billy's arm flex against him as he starts working his own jeans open to jerk himself off as he sucks and oh God, Steve hears himself moan and Billy's tongue is so goddamn good and -

He wakes up sweating with his heart hammering in his chest like after a nightmare, but he's not panicking. Just hard as a rock and on the edge of losing it, barely able to get in a couple strokes before his thighs are shaking and he's coming all over himself, his ears filled with white noise. 

Second time this week.

Steve's fucked, he really is. 

-

**_track 7 - let’s get it up (AC/DC)_ **

_Loose lips sink ships_  
_So come aboard for a pleasure trip_  
_It's high tide, so let's ride_  
_The moon is rising and so am I_

It's late. They're both half asleep, but neither of them is making a move to get up off the couch and go to bed. They can waste hours like this, sharing beers and listening to each other's music on Steve's sound system in Steve's empty house.

Steve's doing his damnedest to get Billy to fully appreciate how ahead of her time Donna Summer was, but as soon as the track ends, he's up and flipping through records again.

"Come on, how good was that?" Steve says, and Billy ignores him, finally pulling out what he's looking for with a flourish.

"You want vocals? I'll give you vocals," he says, and winks, carefully tipping the record out of its sleeve and replacing the one on the turntable. He puts the needle down and comes back to flop next to Steve on the couch, a little closer than he was before.

"AC/DC, baby," Billy says dreamily. "Nothin' like 'em." Steve leans into Billy's warmth. Billy stretches his arm out on the back of the sofa behind him, almost like he's putting his arm around Steve.

Then Steve notices.

"Wait, dude. This is a song about boners. You literally stopped Donna Summer to put on a song about popping a boner."

Billy chuckles. "And?"

Another thirty seconds passes, and then -

"Wait, this is a song about _pirates_ getting boners?" Steve says, chagrined. "What the fuck?"

"Look Stevie, you're not always gonna understand really deep art, okay -" says Billy before Steve elbows him and Billy starts laughing, holding his side with one hand and poking Steve's ribs with the other. "Not my fault you're not on my level."

Steve dodges him. "Oh yeah, what level is that? Subterranean?" 

"Oooh, harsh," Billy says, still laughing, and Steve gets up to find something better, smiling despite himself. 

Eventually, one of them picks something that's way too long and melodic, and Steve's eyes are so heavy. He's back on the couch next to Billy, turned slightly inward toward him, and he lets himself doze on the warm upholstery. He vaguely notices the music stop and then Billy whispers, so quietly, "Steve?" There's another moment of silence, and then Billy shifts so he's turned in toward Steve too. His breath is soft on Steve's face and he gently runs his fingertips over Steve's cheek, his jaw, down his neck. He rests the heel of his hand lightly on Steve's chest, right over his heart, and Steve can't quite breathe. He moves without meaning to, drawn closer to the touch, and Billy draws his hand away quickly.

Steve stays still and Billy turns to prop himself on the arm of the couch. In a few minutes, his breathing slows and evens out, and he's still. Steve is awake for much longer.

_**track 8 - hurts so good (john cougar)** _

_Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby_  
_Let's see what we can do_  
_Come on and make it hurt, hurt so good_

They’ve left bruises on each other more times than Steve can count. Dumb fights, knocking into one another at parties and on the basketball court, sometimes one of them (usually Billy) just taking his shit out on the other when it gets real bad. Steve’s nose will always be a little bit crooked after the Byers’, but he doesn’t really give a shit. It kinda looks cool, makes his face a little more interesting. Billy always seems to come out unscathed, though - he’ll be black and blue and mottled shades of yellow for a few days tops, and then any damage seems to melt away, his goddamn stupid sunny glow just roaring back into place like it never left. It could be the most Indiana frozen February and Billy would still look like he never left the beach, freckled and adorable in a way that makes Steve want to fucking _yell_ along with this John Cougar song in the car as he floors it. 

The thing is, Steve can’t stop thinking about really leaving a mark on Billy. Leaving _his_ mark. He wants to make Billy hurt, in the best way. It makes him flush red to think about it too hard, but when he’s alone in bed at night with a slick hand wrapped around himself and he’s right on the edge, sometimes what pushes him over is the thought of sinking his teeth into one of Billy Hargrove’s thick thighs. Running his tongue up all that soft skin, teasing close to Billy's cock and digging his nails in. Biting down hard, sucking rough on Billy's skin and then making him come all over the pretty bruises Steve would leave on him. 

Goddamn, Steve _wants._

The thing is: he sees the way Billy looks at him, and he's pretty damn sure that Billy wants, too. 

**_track 9 - play the game (queen)_ **

_Light another cigarette, and let yourself go  
_ _This is your life, don't play hard to get  
_ _It's a free world, all you have to do is fall in love  
_ _Play the game_

-

**_track 10 - heaven is a place on earth (belinda carlisle)_ **

_Baby, I was afraid before_  
_But I'm not afraid anymore_  
_Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_  
_Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth_

  
By the time he gets to the end of side two, Steve's calmed the fuck down about the whole thing. Like, he'll still be nervous when he actually gives it to Billy, but at the end of the day he's kinda proud of himself. It's objectively a great gift. And he knows, finally, that it's an honest one. It's not particularly subtle but neither is he, and he's tired of dancing around what he's pretty sure they've both known for a while now.

He goes for a drive to test it out, give it a final run-through. It's best listened to in a car, after all. Preferably with someone hot riding shotgun, groping your thigh while it plays through. 

The tape sounds perfect, but he already knew that.

Steve's not a dumbass: he knows that being a queer in rural Indiana in the age of AIDS and Reagan and Ryan White means being afraid. The name of the game is survival, and getting out when you can. But this? He's not afraid of this anymore, of what they could have or what it could become. It feels big and important in a way he doesn't quite have words for yet, but that makes him think of the way he used to feel, like he could see the future he and Nancy would have, ten, twenty, thirty years out. That future is long gone, and it wasn't ever quite right in the way he wanted it to be at sixteen. But this time, it feels right. Feels settled in his bones and good, like the last 45 seconds of the tape, the joy in Belinda Carlisle's voice when the key changes and she sounds like she knows exactly what it's worth to not be afraid anymore. 

Steve carefully writes the track titles in the case insert, and puts it on his bedside table before he turns out the light. He'll give it to Billy tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all. I AGONIZED over this playlist. The mixtape was theoretically made in December 1984, but I played fast and loose with the release dates of a few of the tracks because I wanted to include them so much. Endless appreciation to LazyBaker for the inspiration and letting me run with the playlist idea!
> 
> Bonus extra tracks I didn't end up including!
> 
> 1\. I'm In Love With My Car by Queen (aka the Billy theme song)
> 
> Got a feel for my automobile  
> Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar  
> Such a thrill when your radials squeal
> 
> 2\. Dirty Mind by Prince
> 
> In my daddy's car  
> It's you I really want to drive  
> Underneath the stars  
> I really get a dirty mind  
> Whenever you're around
> 
> 3\. Blue Denim by Stevie Nicks
> 
> Blue-gray eyes they change with the colour  
> Change with the sun, they run with the sight  
> Change with the wind but they're always bright  
> Bright eyes, blue denim


End file.
